


Friendship and Laughter

by claudia603



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-02
Updated: 2010-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia603/pseuds/claudia603
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frodo and Aragorn talk and laugh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendship and Laughter

The sun rose high in the sky, a golden orb that offered light and warmth over the green hills and distant woods. The trail wandered through hedges and over hills and through a canopy of trees. Nothing seemed too frightening under the sun and under the protection of Strider the Ranger, a tall figure wrapped in a green cloak, striding on his long legs. The road meandered downwards, and Frodo caught sight of a thick cluster of trees straight ahead. His breath caught with joy. The trees still displayed brightly colored jewels of autumn, like apples. And this made Frodo think about the apple that Sam had aimed right at Bill Ferny’s nose.

He laughed, breaking the pleasant silence.

Sam, intent upon making certain Bill the Pony kept pace with them, startled and looked at him. “What is it, sir?”

“It’s you, Sam,” Frodo said, still chuckling.

Sam cleared his throat. By now Merry and Pippin were grinning and looking at him as if he were truly cracked. Sam straightened his shoulders, flushing a bit. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

Frodo gasped for breath as the laughter took him. It felt good to release the tension and fear, to laugh freely under the sunlight. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I am remembering when you threw that apple at Bill Ferny…the grim expression on your face…I reckon he won’t tease a hobbit for a good while!”

“Got him straight on the nose,” Pippin said, nodding. “Perfect shot.”

“With a fat ugly face like that, how could he miss?” Merry said.

All four of them laughed, clutching at one another for balance. Strider ignored the hobbity banter, keeping a solid distance between the hobbits and himself, always aware when he had walked too far ahead, occasionally waiting for them. At times he explained where they were with a low, brusque voice.

Frodo felt pity for him. Last night Strider had looked nearly pained when he said that a hunted man sometimes yearns for friendship. But then just afterwards he had fairly growled at Pippin when the hobbit joked about them all looking rough and beaten like Strider after a few days in the wild. He might long for friendship but had been lonely for so long that he did not know the strength of his own surliness.

But a friend of Gandalf’s could not be all bad. Frodo decided then that he would do his best to show friendliness to the Ranger, to give him every opportunity to show and receive friendship. After all, just by leading him to Rivendell he had put his own life in peril.

“I’m glad to have given you entertainment, sir,” Sam said. “But it was no more than he deserved. Wish I’d had a rock, because I very much regret losing that apple. Don’t suppose we’ll get much as far as real food between here and Rivendell.”

“I suppose not,” Frodo said. “Unless you count roots and berries.”

Smoke curled from the now distant behind them hobbit holes and cottages of Bree. Frodo wished more than ever to be safe inside a hobbit hole with no worries worse than whether he had enough seedcake should he get an unexpected visitor. His heart sank with sudden longing for the old days at Bag End, even in the years after Bilbo left when his cousins would visit from Buckland and they would open one of the Old Winyard bottles with a hot meal, after which they would walk under the stars.

Breeland faded behind them, along with hope for hot meals and soft beds, and soon the sun went down, leaving them in heavy darkness marred only by the faint silvery light of stars.

  
***

Frodo twisted and turned inside his bed roll. Worry for Gandalf and what those flashing lights in the distance had meant, stole his desire for sleep. He would give much to see the wizard again, to hear his stern voice and merry laughter.

He rolled to a sitting position, shivering in the chilly autumn night. Clouds had covered the stars. Strider sat on a nearby log, smoking his pipe, deep in his own worries. Frodo got up and joined him.

“You should sleep, Frodo,” Strider said.

“I cannot.” The Ring pressed on his chest, cold and heavy. “I am worried about Gandalf. I could use some company.”

“I am afraid I am not good company.”

“Any company at all will do.” Frodo said.

Strider nodded. “It is not like him to be so late. But he is far more resourceful and resilient than you Shire-folk know. Try not to fret.”

“How long have you known him?” Frodo asked.

Strider smiled. “Many, many years. We’ve traveled much together. He is a dear friend.” He then clasped Frodo’s shoulder with surprising strength. “My heart foretells that we will see him in Rivendell.”

Frodo smiled. “He was always fond of telling me that he was never late – a wizard arrives precisely when he means to.”

Strider laughed, and Frodo realized that it was the first time he had heard him laugh in a genuine and not grim manner. “That is indeed Gandalf.”

“I am glad that we are going to Rivendell.” Frodo’s heart stirred with hope that not only would he find Gandalf in Rivendell but that he might also find Bilbo there, and that they would all be safe under the canopy of Elvish light and protection.

  
END


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